Saxophone Man
by Sempai Sunny
Summary: SONGFIC! A little aria for Midvally the hornfreak! ::huggles midvally:: He's great! R&R! I fixed it!


Sunny: Midvally is my 5th favorite Gung-Ho Gun, though it kills me about how horrible he's drawn in the anime, when he's so sexy in the manga…::drool::

Legato: Excuse me.

Wolfwood: *Achem*

Sunny: Sorry guys. But, this is a little songfic about Midvally before he's a Gung-Ho Gun. We don't own Trigun, or "Piano Man" by Billy Joel. ::thinks:: No one ever writes about Midvally. Why is that?

Legato: Because he's a worthless human, like us all.

Sunny: ¬.\\ You're becoming worthless, you're aware of that, right?

**Saxophone Man**

_*It's __nine o'clock___

_On a Saturday_

_The regular crowd shuffles in_

_There's an old man_

_Sitting next to me_

_Making love to his tonic and gin*_

I noticed him when he walked into the bar. I had been playing, taking requests for once, and this man walked right up to me, a drink in his hand.

I smirked slightly. This man had gone entirely without notice in the bar, odd for someone as tall as he, with a red trench coat at that.

            "Do you know 'Sound Life'?" he asked, taking a swig of his drink.

_*He says_

_Son can you play me a memory_

_I'm not really sure how it goes_

_But it's sad_

_And it's sweet_

_And I knew it complete_

_When I wore a younger man's clothes*_

            "Sure, man," I said. "Don't hear a request for that one very often."

            "It's an old song," he said, shrugging. "But it's a favorite of mine. My mother used to sing it."

            I nodded and put Sylvia to my lips, playing the first few notes. I could hear it in my head, and was transferring it from my head to my hands, so Sylvia could play it for this man.

            After I'd finished, I took my break, walking over to the bar.

            "Just give me some whiskey," I said to John, who ran the bar.

_*Now __John__ at the bar_

_Is a friend of mine_

_He gets me my drinks for free_

_And he's quick with a joke_

_Or to light up your smoke_

_But there's some place_

_That he'd rather be*_

            "Midvally," he said, passing me the glass. I loved the sound of the ice cubes clinking against the sides. It was almost musical.

            "Midvally, how can you stand it here?" he asked. I shrugged, taking a sip. The liquid burned my throat on the way down, but I was used to it.

            "I want to get out so badly, travel this planet," he sighed. "That guy looks like he's been around." He gestured to the man in the red coat, who was just leaving the bar.

            "Sure has," I agreed.

_*He says_

_Bill__, I believe this is killing me_

_As the smile ran away from his face_

_For I'm sure that_

_I could be a movie star_

_If I could get out of this place*_

            "Thanks," I said, leaving a few coins at the counter. I always tip John, even though the drinks are on the house. I bring in so many people just to hear me play, that he doesn't really need to charge me.

            I smiled at a few of the regulars as I stepped back to the stage and started playing another tune.

_*Now __Paul__ is a real estate novelist_

_Who never had time_

_For a wife_

_And he's talking with __Davy___

_Who's still in the Navy_

_And probably will be for life*_

            A few of these men I could call my friends. I know almost everyone here, the regulars.

            A tall man in a white trench coat walked into the bar and quietly ordered a drink. He sits down and turns to me.

_*And the waitress_

_Is practicing politics_

_As the businessmen_

_Slowly get stoned_

_Yes, they're sharing a drink_

_They call loneliness_

_But it's better than drinking alone*_

            All the people who frequent here on Saturdays, and most of the one-timers, are sad, lonely people. This man seemed to be just alone, not lonely, and far from being sad.

            I stopped playing as he approached me.

            "Are you Midvally the Hornfreak?" he asked, his voice smooth, cold, and slightly malicious.

            I nodded, suppressing the fear arising within me.

            'Fear does not become you,' I heard him say within my head. 'Play "Sound Life" for me.'

            "Someone already requested that song, earlier tonight."

            'Play it!' he yelled within my head. 'I know Vash the Stampede was here, and I know he asked for the song, but I want to hear it now!'

            The man who had requested the song earlier was Vash the Stampede? The outlaw with a sixty billion double dollar bounty on his head? He seemed like a lonely young man, like the rest of the people in the bar.

            I started to play it again, and I could hear a few people singing along this time.

_*Sing us a song_

_You're the piano man_

_Sing us a song tonight_

_While we're all in the mood_

_For a melody_

_And you've got us_

_Feeling all right*_

            He smiled. 'You conceal a weapon within that instrument, am I correct?'

            How did this man know this?

            'The master would be very pleased with you. I heard that you were able to misdirect pain and aim it at the source with the sound emitted by your horn. You would be a fine addition to the group of assassins, the Gung-Ho Guns, I am assembling, Midvally.'

_*It's a pretty good crowd_

_For a Saturday_

_And the manager gives me a smile_

_'Cause he knows that it's me_

_They've been coming to see_

_To forget about life for a while*_

            'I could make every single person in here drop dead with a mere thought.' The man continued. 'It would not be wise to oppose me, especially when your musical talent is so great.'

            "What would I be entitled to should I join you?"

            'Anywhere from five to thirty billion double dollars,' he said, smiling. 'My master has left it up to me to assemble a group of assassins to kill his brother, Vash the Stampede. The bounty would belong to all of us.'

            I thought about this for a second. That man, in the red coat, was the outlaw, and this man, with a white coat, wanted him dead, like just about everyone else.

            Five billion double dollars was more than I'd ever see in my life if I stayed in this bar, not to mention thirty.

_*And the piano_

_It sounds like a carnival_

_And the microphone_

_Smells like a beer_

_And they sit at the bar_

_And put bread in my jar_

_And say_

_Man, what are you doing here?*_

            They might miss me, I thought.

            'You can play other places. People will still flock from all over to hear the famous Midvally the Hornfreak. But, you deserve so much more than providing music in bars.'

            This man was incredibly persuasive. The bar was closing soon, so I stepped down from the stage, towards him.

            'I thought you'd see it my way,'

_*Sing us a song_

_You're the piano man_

_Sing us a song tonight_

_While we're all in the mood_

_For a melody_

_And you got us feeling all right*_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sunny: ^_\\ Midvally the Hornfreak, ladies and gentlemen! ::dramatic wave of the arm::

Midvally: ::plays Rakouen::

Wolfwood: Erp.

Legato: Wolfwood's final act.

Sunny: -_\\ It must be a Gung-Ho Gun thing…

Ecaep dna evol, Sunny


End file.
